


wilbur isn't handling online school well

by leggyman



Series: MCYT One-Shots / Short Stories [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, POV Third Person, Sleep Deprivation, Younger Sibling TommyInnit, if I can't find the fanfiction I want I'll write it myself, it has tommy in it what else do you expect, lol, online school really be doing it to me, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, this is just me projecting onto wilbur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27377458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leggyman/pseuds/leggyman
Summary: just a one-shot of wilbur not handling school.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Only Platonic - Relationship, brother times
Series: MCYT One-Shots / Short Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000011
Comments: 23
Kudos: 649





	wilbur isn't handling online school well

Wilbur sat in front of the computer, staring at his glowing laptop screen for what felt like hours. With a quick glance at the alarm clock on his desk -  _ 3:27 AM _ \- his suspicions were confirmed. He hadn’t left his seat in hours, although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly how many. He took another sip of his Monster, yawned, and went back to staring. His hands hovered over the keyboard uselessly, willing himself to just  _ write the stupid essay _ .

He never expected online school to be this dreadful. Of course, he was an extrovert, but his family and voice chatting with his other friends while playing video games satisfied his social need well enough. That didn’t really matter much, though, when he never left his room or socialized much anymore. The most noise he heard was fifteen minute meals he allotted for himself and the soft beats of _Crywank_ echoing through his earbuds.

Wilbur didn’t know how it even happened. He was usually productive. He didn’t pull As in every class, that was Techno’s job, but he for sure passed all of his classes. With the online format, though, he couldn’t concentrate enough to keep up with the pace set out for him. He’d have to rewatch lectures over and over because despite how hard he tried to pay attention, the droning on of some boring man talking way too excitedly about physics and equations that just didn’t make sense faded into the background. Simple English reading assignments that he’d usually be able to complete in thirty minutes suddenly took hours. Despite his best efforts, the work piled up.

His habits, usually trying his best to eat at least two meals a day and get six hours of sleep a night, had been placed on the backburner. He’d begun to skip meals in favor of trying to complete tedious quizzes that he ended up needing to retake anyway because  _ none of it made sense _ . His attempts at a healthy sleep schedule quickly developed into working long into the night and tossing and turning when he’d attempt to sleep, busy thinking about how much work was waiting for him on the other side of the night.

He slumped further into his desk chair, the fans on his laptop whirring in what felt like a mocking manner, after his third attempt at coming up with at least a feasible thesis statement. He wished he would’ve known what fresh hell this school year would be before signing up for college level english. The essay had been due at least a week (or was it longer? The days blended together) beforehand, and he hadn’t started it. Every distraction had been moved to the opposite end of the room, but even his efforts seemed useless. His stomach growled angrily at him, realizing he hadn’t eaten yet that day. He decided to let himself have a small break, hoping it’d get him into more of a productive mood whilst knowing that  _ this was just him wasting time _ . 

Ignoring the inner voice chastising him for his laziness, he slowly creaked open his door and walked down the stairs. He knew which spots to avoid stepping on, as he’d spent too many late nights wandering the house and Phil was the lightest sleeper he’d ever known. Every time he’d ask why Wilbur was still up so late into the night, Wilbur would give him an excuse of ‘needing a drink’. Phil never questioned him further, but a glance told Wilbur that he knew that was bullshit.

After wolfing down a package of Pop-Tarts, he went back to work, as well as he could.

Tommy could tell that something was up with Wilbur. The house had been too quiet in recent, a noticeable absence of guitar chords and humming from every room. One of the few times that Wilbur left his room, Tommy had peeked in to notice his guitar and cell phone (completely dead, not even plugged in) haphazardly shoved into his closet with dirty clothes piled up around it. The same few  _ Crywank _ songs could be heard whenever he passed the closed bedroom door of the middle brother. The few times that Tommy had asked if Wilbur wanted to play Mario Kart or go for a walk or do anything together, he was brushed off with the statement of “in a bit, maybe”. The last time he asked was almost two weeks ago.

The only time Tommy ever saw Wilbur at this point was when they’d run into each other on one of Wilbur’s rare adventures out of his bedroom. Genuinely, the only reason Tommy could tell he was at least somewhat functioning most days would be the appearance of dishes and the cans of Monster that’d vanish from the fridge.

To say that he was worried was an understatement.

Tommy woke up grumbling, slapping around on his bedside table until he eventually silenced his alarm. He sat up, throwing the comforter with a bit more violence than necessary towards the end of his bed. He stood up, his spine popping in multiple places (damn his bad posture) and got dressed for the day. Nothing thrilling, of course, just a different pair of pajama pants and a hoodie that once belonged to Techno but had since been claimed as his own. He attempted to make his hair look a bit less like he’d just gotten out of bed, but quickly gave up and logged onto his computer. Sitting like a gremlin, right arm completely outstretched so he could paw at his mouse, he checked into school.

After finishing the first online lecture (music theory, something that Wilbur had bullied him into taking but was secretly quite fond of himself), he took the opportunity to wander the house. Phil was off to work, Techno wouldn’t be awake for at least a handful of hours more, and Wilbur was holed up in his room. Despite never being a morning person, and usually being the cause of chaos, he quite enjoyed the peaceful nature of mornings in the house. He plopped onto the couch with a bowl of cereal and a fresh Coke can, and took in the atmosphere. It was the time of morning where the light filtered in from the windows in a bright but not overwhelming manner.

It was quiet and relaxing, until a loud thud was heard from upstairs. Setting his breakfast down onto the coffee table, he sped up the stairs. Tommy had never been one to knock, but Wilbur had been so stressed and he didn’t want to add any fuel to the fire. With three gentle knocks and a “Wilbur, is everything alright in there?”, Tommy waited for any form of response. There was shuffling on the other side of the door, and it opened to reveal his brother.

Wilbur looked like shit. His sweatshirt and sweatpants were rumpled and creased. His glasses, which were on crooked, almost hid the dark black spots under his eyes. His hair was greasy and looked more unkempt than usual, which was a telltale sign that he’d been running his hands through it. His posture was worse than Tommy’s, and he looked like he could’ve fallen asleep standing there.

A glance behind Wilbur into his room showed an environment as messy as its occupant looked. The bed was unmade, cans of energy drinks were strewn in every direction, and his desk had books and paperwork stacked up high in every spot but the laptop itself. A pencil case’s contents were scattered next to the desk chair, as if Wilbur had dumped it onto the floor. The culprit of the loud noise was quickly located: a heavy textbook lying upside down and opened at the opposite side of the room, as if it had been thrown against the wall. Tommy had a hunch that that was exactly what’d happened.

No one had ever accused Wilbur of being the most organized, and it was well known information that he didn’t always have the healthiest of habits, but this was unprecedented. This was the worst he’d ever seen.

“What do you need, Tommy?” Wilbur asked, voice hoarse from lack of use, shocking his youngest brother out of his thinking.

Without any prior thought, Tommy stated, “Wilbur, you look like shit.”

A half-hearted chuckle interrupted by a yawn escaped the elder, as he turned around to head back towards his desk. The attempt to close the door was stopped by Tommy following him into the room. It was as if Wilbur didn’t even realize, as he immediately sat back at the desk and resumed staring at the laptop screen. After dodging crumpled balls of paper and the random food wrapper, Tommy took up residence at the edge of Wilbur’s bed.

His suspicions were confirmed when Wilbur jumped as Tommy started speaking, “When’s the last time you slept?”

It didn’t go unnoticed to Tommy that Wilbur had to check what day of the week it was on his computer, before giving the halfhearted answer of “probably three days?”

“Wilbur! What the fuck?” Tommy shouted, causing the elder to flinch, “You need to go the hell to sleep, I’m calling Phil-”

“No!”, Wilbur interrupted, with the most passion Tommy had heard from his brother in far too long, flinging the desk chair around to face him.

“Wil, I’m worried about you. You need to sleep and get a change of scenery. I’m texting Phil to call you out of school today.” Tommy pulled out his phone and opened up the message app before it was yanked out of his hands.

“I can’t. I don’t have time. I’m out of time. I can’t,” Wilbur muttered, almost sounding out of breath.

With more than a hint of hesitance, Tommy put his phone away. “Then at least work in my room with me. Work on my bed or something. It smells like ass in here.”

Before Wilbur could protest, Tommy picked up his laptop and bolted into his room. He could hear Wilbur following him, as well as a string of half-hearted curses.

With a smirk, Tommy set the laptop on his bed and turned on some relaxing music. Eventually, Wilbur stumbled in and took up residence on the bed, still mumbling about how Tommy was a prick and similar sentiments. They both settled in and silently worked, with Tommy occasionally throwing concerned glances back at his older brother.

On one of those glances, he noticed Wilbur slumped forward, resting his head on his hand. Soft snores could be heard coming from the man, and Tommy gently got up. He carefully closed Wilbur’s laptop and set it on the bedside table. He grabbed his own laptop, flicked off the lights and silently closed the door.

If Tommy called the school, pretending to be Phil, and said that Wilbur was sick, no one needed to know. If he quickly finished up his own work on the living room couch and went up to clean Wilbur’s room, no one needed to know. If Wilbur slept on his bed for nearly ten hours, no one needed to know. If Tommy finished up a handful of Wilbur’s papers that he’d spent hours staring at and filling out nothing, no one needed to know.

If after Wilbur woke up and saw what his younger brother had done, going to Tommy with tears in his eyes thanking him, no one needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my first time writing for fun in about a year. I'm currently procrastinating on my own online schoolwork right now, lol. Anyway, let me know how I did, and if y'all have an idea you want to hear. I love constructive criticism and compliments fuel my plummeting ego, so sound off in the comments. Also this wasn't beta read or anything, so sorry if it's not the greatest. Have a fantastic day, and I'm proud of you!


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